


It Could Have Been Worse

by Callmesalticidae, DaneelsSoul, shadow_wasserson



Series: Building From Scratch [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bad end, Blood, Cult of the Mirthful Messiahs, Dismemberment, God Tier, Gore, Hostage Situations, Torture, jokerkind is OP, lots of blood, the dark carnivale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmesalticidae/pseuds/Callmesalticidae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaneelsSoul/pseuds/DaneelsSoul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_wasserson/pseuds/shadow_wasserson
Summary: GC: 1 DON'T TH1NK K4RK4T UND3RST4NDS HOW B4D 1T COULD H4V3 B33N.GC: 1F W3 H4D 4RR1V3D TOO L4T3... 1 DON'T L1K3 TH1NK1NG 4BOUT 1T.GC: BUT 1T M1GHT H4V3 GON3 L1K3 TH1S.(A non-canon 'what if' in the Meteorstuck timeline. This did not happen. Also, please note tags for gore.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Act 3 Intermission 2 of Building from Scratch, though these events didn't actually happen canonically, so take it as you will.
> 
> Takes place instead of Act 3, Chapter 7.
> 
> (edited for formatting errors)

===> Be Terezi

You are lost. You are not used to getting lost. _Why are you lost._

It’s the flood. It must have washed out everyone’s scent. You don’t know where you are.

You’re lost.

Shit.

===> Be Dave

You are now Dave. You are looking at Gamzee, who hasn’t lowered his lance. You’re pretty sure you can take him even without Caledscratch, but you’re not sure if you can draw your less good swords before you’re a shishkabob.

Gamzee is smiling. “Welcome to my ring, motherfucker.”

===> Dave: Attempt to diffuse the tension

“Well,” you say. “Looks like we’ll be stuck down here a while. Know any good camp songs?”

Gamzee laughs. “We’ll be singing beautacious songs for the Mirthful Messiahs, motherfucker. Singing for the both of us. For me.” You don’t jump, but you do tense, when he swings the lance and slams it point down, embedded into the floor. “And also _me_.”

===> Dave: Initiate highstakes rapoff

Now’s the time. How fast can you draw Caledfwlch? “I guess I’m down for that,” you say, and you grab the sword in the same instant that he aims a bow and arrow.

He’s across the room. Shit. You hold out the hand not holding Caledfwlch. “Whoa, easy there, you might shoot someone’s eye out.”

Then he lets fly the arrow, and shoots your fucking eye out.

===>Dave: Wake up

Oh. Well. That was not fun. You try to push yourself up, but something’s tied around your wrists, and something else has grabbed hold of your feet.

No. You’re not letting that clown get the drop on you again. You kick yourself up to standing with a sick parkour move that your Bro would have been proud of, and whirl on Gamzee, who is holding Caledfwlch and looks a bit surprised. Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to get up that fast. Too bad.

You can’t use your swords with your hands tied, much less your timetables, but you don’t need them just yet. You rear back and kick at Gamzee with both feet. You think you connect, but you don’t wait around to look. You fly to the ceiling and observe the damage. Gamzee’s sitting on his ass, so you must have kicked him over, but he doesn’t look winded. You’re not surprised to see him take the arrows out again.

===>Dave: Initiate highstakes rapoff

“Dude,” you call. “You know there’s no point to this, right?” The guy knows you’re god tier. He has to know what that means, right?

Gamzee honks in reply, and fires an arrow, which you dodge. You do the same for the second arrow, and the third.

“Getting old,” you say, and then he pulls out a GIGANTIC FUCKING RIFLE that looks like it’s held together with DUCT TAPE. What the fuck.

You can’t dodge it this time.

===> Dave: Wake up.

You don’t open your eyes, and you don’t move, not at first. You assess your physical state. You are not in pain and you feel physically fine. You wiggle your toes slightly. Your feet are tied together. You are upright, your back against something tall and narrow. The lance. You wiggle a little. You’re tied to it.

===> Dave: Open your eyes.

Gamzee is standing uncomfortably close to you, staring. You open your mouth to say something sarcastic, not sure what yet, but you’re gonna wing it. Then he raises his arm, honks, and clubs you over the head.

===> Dave: Wake up.

Gamzee is not in sight. You are still tied to the lance. You are not in pain and feel physically fine.

You glance at your ropes. They seem to be made out of strips of your own cape. Your stupid self-cleaning self-regenerating cape.

Unfortunately, while you are looking down, you catch a glimpse of the floor. Your stupid self-cleaning self-regenerating shoes are spotless. But you are standing in the middle of a very large puddle of blood.

That clown. That fucking clown.

You hear someone moving behind you.

===> Dave: Initiate highstakes rapoff.

When Gamzee comes into view, you’re basically expecting the worst and you’re not disappointed. Gamzee’s arms are red and wet to the elbow.

He’s got to know how pointless this is. He’s got to.

“It’s time, brother.”

You’d almost forgotten this son of a bitch could say things that weren’t honks. “Time for what?” Your voice does not tremble, and it’s not hoarse. _Stay cool Dave, stay cool._

“The main event, my colorful heretic motherfucker.” And he takes out claws, like Wolverine.

You’re not actually in danger. You haven’t done a thing to deserve this, and getting served your ass while tied to a lance is not heroic. You know this.

You’re not shaking. You’re not. You are Dave fucking Strider. You are not afraid.

But fuck. This is going to hurt like a bitch.

===> Be Gamzee. Commence the main event.

This is the most motherfucking miraculous thing you’ve ever been part of. Subbjugglating those peasantblood motherfuckers was well and good, and painting the walls with your miracles was fun and all. But this little brother is just the most wondrous of all.

It’s not every fuckin’ day you get to pop a fucker more than once.

You honk a prayer, and you cut. You slice and rip and tear. And it’s quiet at first, quiet like the breathless hush that falls over a crowd.

And then the music starts, louder and louder, and you honk along and even beat some poetry to the sound. Motherfucking beautiful. Sounds like your audience, cheering you on.

You know how to do this. You know how to motherFUCKING do this. You drag it on, and on, miracles all the way.

What a motherfucking beautiful color.

===> Be Dave

You don’t want to be Dave. You’d rather be just about anyone in the multiverse right now, rather than Dave.

You know why he did it the way he did. You figured it out. Terezi. Terezi chewing on that piece of Ogre. They break into grist when they die. But anything you cut off of them before that? Stays as meat.

Fuck.

===> Dave: Wake up

Gamzee is sitting with his back to you.

He’s fussing with something. Fuck him. You are not saying anything. You’re pretty sure you’ve said everything that could possibly be said in this situation.

You’re ok. You’re cool. You’re cool. You are physically fine and in no pain.

And you fucking flinch when he turns to look back at you.

===> Dave: Play it cool.

You don’t trust yourself to talk right now. So you cover for the extremely uncool cringe by straightening your spine, gritting your jaw, and trying to stare him down. You swore to yourself earlier that you wouldn’t cry, or scream, or beg. And okay, you broke those first two, but you still haven’t stooped low enough to plead to the clown. You are Dave fucking Strider, and you are not scared of Gamzee. You are NOT scared. It’s just a visceral reaction to all the blood on him. That’s all. Not your fucking fault.

He gets up. He comes closer. He’s holding something.

Every muscle in your body is pulled tight, so tense it’s physically painful. Your hands are trembling with adrenaline.

===> Dave: Lose your shit.

Gamzee holds up whatever he’s carrying. “Look what I’ve made, brother.”

It looks kinda like a mask. It’s- No. No fucking way he could have gotten that off you while you were still alive.

You manage to think of a good response. “Good job. Looks just like me.”

Then you realize that the way he’s holding it... it’s like he’s using it as a _hand puppet_.

===> Terezi: where the fuck are you??

You’re fucking LOST where do you THINK??? Asshole.

===> Dave: Initiate highstakes rapoff.

You can’t do this. You can’t look at this shit. This is the nastiest shit you’ve ever seen.

You close your eyes. You hear Gamzee make a sound of disappointment, maybe annoyance. And whatever he does next is so quick you don’t even notice.

===> Dave: Wake up

. . .

===> Dave: Wake up

You are in a lot of pain. The world is fuzzy and spinning and sliding and you feel like your head is about to split. You can’t think clearly.

He must have hit you the second you started breathing, but not hard enough to keep you knocked out.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve woken up. He’s also not using any weapons this time, not even the claws.

He smiles. “It’s the grand finale, brother,” he says.

You can’t see straight. It’s the concussion, or maybe shock. And that’s okay by you, since you don’t particularly want to look. You turn your pounding head to the side, grab the fabric of your god hood with your teeth, and bite.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound of your arm being ripped off.

===> Dave: Wake up

You are not in pain and you are physically- what the fuck.

You can feel something COLD and WET and STICKY dribbling down your face and through your hair. Gamzee is talking.

“Wake up, brother. Wake up.” You open your eyes. He is so coated in blood you can barely even tell he’s a troll. And he’s pouring faygo on you. What the fuck.

“Welcome back, motherfucker. It’s over.”

Wait, what?

“I’m motherfuckin done, brother. The Dark Carnivale is complete.” He steps back, and rotates the lance so you’re facing the wall.

It’s a painting. Or a mural. Painted in blood. Some of the blood is drying to brown, some of it is fresh and cherry red and glistening.

It’s a scene. A big top circus ring, with patrons and strange beasts doing tricks. Jugglers, fire-eaters, acrobats, clowns. No one looks happy. In fact, all the faces look like they’re screaming, and the more you look at it the more it looks like the whole scene is actually on fire, or maybe it’s a puppet show, with corpses on sticks. Impaled.

Your head hurts just looking at it.

Gamzee walks back into view. His arms are spread out like one of the pretty girls on a game show, showing off a prize. _Ta da._

“What the fuck,” you manage.

Gamzee sits down crosslegged on the floor. He looks quite pleased with himself. You stay there, staring at each other for a good minute.

===> Dave: Initiate highstakes rapoff.

“You’re not going to kill me again.” A statement, not a question. You pretend that your voice isn’t hoarse. You pretend it’s not shaking.

“Not much motherfuckin’ point, bro.” He shrugs. “God tiers don’t go to no Shangri-La.”

You gesture with your chin at the mural, not looking directly at it. “So... this whole... you... it was for that.”

“That’s right. Could use a few more colors, but it’s pretty motherfuckin miraculous as it is.”

Your mouth snaps closed. You... have no words for this level of fuckery.

===> Dave: Uncover a whole new level of fuckery.

“But,” Gamzee continues. “I’m getting my think on. And I think I might want some more color all in here.”

You don’t say anything, and he continues. “I think it might be good with some motherfucking teal.”

Your muscles are tense. Your jaw is set. This is bullshit.

“So how about this, brother. You tell me I can kill you one more time, and I won’t go paintin’ with no teal.”

What. The. Fuck.

===> Dave: Explain.

You have no control whether he kills you again now or not. But he’s giving you the choice. He’s putting it in your hands.

He’s trying to make you a hero.

===> Dave: Choose.

Like you even have to think. “No fucking way,” you say. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re crazy because if you look in the dictionary under ‘batshit’ it’ll have a picture of your goddamn face. Besides,” and you say this with more ferocity, more rage, then you had expected. “Terezi can take care of her fucking self.”

Gamzee giggles, and honks a few times. Then he goes over to the vent, to wait.

===> Terezi: Corpse party

You smell it. You fucking smell it. Sweet cherry, wafting down the ventilation duct. It’s too strong. You think you might be sick.

You open the vent and empty your sylladex of body parts. And you shove Karkat in.

===> Karkat: Dramatic entrance.

You land on your ass on the corpse pile. It’s so obscene it’s almost funny, like some sort of over the top horror/pale porn film. You get up and look around, and you nearly have a stroke, because the walls of the room are covered, _COVERED_ in your blood.

===> Karkat: Get some perspective.

It’s not your blood, that’s stupid. You are not hurt. You are not in pain and feel physically fine. You look around. You can see a collection of _stuff_ in the corner.

===> Karkat: Retrieve arms.

Holy mother of fuck. You’re not fucking _touching_ the arms. Or the legs.

===> Dave: Greet rescue party

You nod at Karkat from your place on the lance. He looks kind of ill. Whatever, he can man up and face it. You’ve been manning up and fucking facing it for like... one hour and thirteen minutes and forty seconds (and sixteen milliseconds).

===> Karkat: Reunite with your loving Moirail.

Your “loving moirail” is currently smiling at you through the blood caked on his face. “Don’t need no more red, bro,” he says.

“Gamzee,” you start. But you can’t quite get it your voice to work, not when he’s covered in blood you still can’t quite distance from yourself. He’s carrying a halfsword. It, too, is coated in red.

“Gamzee, listen to me,” you say. But you don’t know what you’re going to say next. You can’t look at him. You can’t fucking do this.

He shoves the broken sword right into your chest.

===> Terezi: Back up a moment. Assess the situation.

Karkat is not doing what he needs to be doing. He’s not doing anything. He seems to have gone catatonic.

Gamzee is approaching Karkat. Karkat is raising an arm, as though to either strike Gamzee or maybe pap him. Or maybe just to shield his vitals. You can’t tell from here.

You can smell Dave’s blood. It’s overwhelming. You gnash your teeth.

Gamzee has what smells like a sword. Smells like _Dave’s_ sword. He moves like a striking rattlefiend. And you smell fresh red.

No.

===> Terezi: Rescue Dave

You jump down, and the clown turns, lazily swinging the 1⁄2 blade. If your weapons weren’t already drawn, you’d be dead.

But they were drawn, and you block the blow, the impact of Caledfwlch ringing down your longer but thinner caneblade.

For the moment, Karkat is forgotten.

===> Dave: Get rescued.

“Terezi! It’s just a half blade, try to use your longer reach! He’s agile, go for his legs!”

===> Gamzee: Subjugglate

You would, but the little sister of justice is matching you blow for motherfucking blow. This is thrilling! You’re going to have fun with this. You consider letting her draw your blood just a little, so she can get a nice smell on who’s going to be culling her.

===> Terezi: Legislacerate

This clown. Is dead.

===> Karkat: Auspisticize

You can hardly breathe, your vision is going blurry. You gasp through the pain and struggle to stay conscious. You are in no state to auspicitize.

===> Kanaya: Actually auspisticize.

You jump down from the pipe, and take one look around the room. You’re fairly experienced with blood and have read a good deal of rainbow drinker fiction, but this is just excessive.

Gamzee has taken a club from his ridiculously large strife deck and is probably about to try bashing Terezi’s head in while she’s blocking Caledfwlch. You take out your lipstick.

===> Terezi: Almost die.

You do not get your head bashed in. You do, however, get your newly alchemized cane smashed out of your hand. The blow might have broken a finger or two; you have no time to check. Gamzee is honking more and more aggressively, and you hear and smell the sword come up. You do not have a back up weapon.

“HONK,” roars the subbjugglator. “HO-”

===> Dave: Take a moment to reflect.

You never thought of Kanaya as particularly dangerous. You know she drinks blood and shit. But like... her strife specibus was makeupkind, how is that at all threatening? And yeah, they told you she killed some douche named “Eridan” but you never met the guy so what do you know?

Turns out that makeup, like clowns, pets, roleplaying, and everything else for trolls, is deadly fucking business.

===> Gamzee: Actually die.

You didn’t know the bright little sister was here. Maybe you were too caught up in the fight with the sister of justice. It was a motherfuckin’ wonderful fight.

You hear the roar of the chainsaw, and heh, you can taste your own blood, how about that.

Motherfuckin’ miracles.

===> Karkat: Mourn

You hear Gamzee hit the ground, but you are not able to reflect on it. Your mutant blood is frothing from your mouth. Everything is kind of grey and dim. Fuck, weren’t you going to- you need to-

===> Kanaya: Indulge.

You’re not going to indulge. This is not the time for that.

You kneel next to Karkat, and say his name. His eyes look at you and he makes a quiet moan, but he doesn’t lift his head. You can practically see the life draining out of him.

“I’m sorry, Karkat,” you say gently. “We were not fast enough.” You put your hand on his upper arm. It’s not quite a pap; you would never presume to do that. But you feel like some form of contact is needed. He gasps weakly.

“I do hope the dream bubbles are good to you.”

You stay like that until he goes silent.

===> Terezi: Rescue Dave

You pick up your canesword, drop it with a hiss, then pick it up with your other hand.

“Terezi,” you hear Kanaya say, her voice low and soft. “How is your hand?”

“It’ll heal,” you grunt. You walk over to Dave, and raise the sword.

“Whoa!” Dave flinches, and the reaction is uncharacteristically extreme. The smell of cherry blood is everywhere.

You let the sword fall, severing the ties holding Dave to the lance. He stumbles slightly, then straightens. He turns to you. “Thanks.”

===> Dave: Reunite with your loving matesprit.

You hug her, so tightly that she might not really be able to breathe. “Fuck,” you whisper. “Fuck, Terezi. I wish you’d _warned_ me, shit.”

“I’m sorry.” She really does sound miserable. “I should have returned sooner. I got lost, and my cane...”

You squeeze her even more tightly. “It’s okay.”

God, you are so glad you’re alive.

===> Kanaya: Indulge.

Well. Maybe just. Just a little. Since you don’t seem to be needed at this juncture.

===> Karkat: Be dead.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! I should’ve, I could’ve-”

  
“Ain’t no point in glubbin aboat shouldas and couldas. Ya otter do what feels right to ya. No regrets, Krabkrab. I never had em.”

“I know, but... I wanted to save him. Save all of them. God damn it, what a fucking useless way to die.”

She elbows you in the side. “C’mon, get over yashellf. It don’t matter no more, stubs.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I wanted to matter.”

“Whale, join the clubble.”

“Clubble??”

“Ah shuddap. Okay, that one was a betta a stretch.”

“...So what now?”

“Dunno. Anyone you arowana meet? Or anywhere you arowana go?”

You turn and look at her. “Hm. I might want to...” you pause a moment. “ _Sea_ my lusus.”

She laughs loudly, and to your own surprise, you smile.

===> Gamzee: Be dead.

Whoa, motherfuck, how’d you get back in your hive?

You sit up and look around. These are motherfuckin’ familiar surroundings, that’s sure.

===> Gamzee: Notice your visitor.

There’s another brother here. A real brother, like. He’s got the carnivale paint and he’s smiling, but something’s wrong with his mouth and eyes.

  
“Hello, most wicked brother,” you say. And he says, all in your mind like, without moving his lips:

**WELCOME TO THE DREAM, BROTHER. WELCOME TO SHANGRI LA.**


End file.
